


I can't do this alone

by Shadowofahunter



Series: Stiles and the Winchesters [5]
Category: Supernatural, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: But doesn't die, Castiel in the Bunker, Chaos, Dragons, Earth, Elements, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Epic Battles, Fire, Gen, Hallucinations, Heaven (supernatural), Hurt Stiles, Ice, Insomnia, Lightning - Freeform, Magic, Sam POV, Scott McCall & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, Spark Stiles Stilinski, Stiles POV, Stiles is Afraid, Stiles-centric, Water, air, cas is kind, deam pov, dream - Freeform, stiles sent to heavan, stiles talks to his mum, the bunker
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-18
Updated: 2017-02-02
Packaged: 2018-05-27 11:15:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 14,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6282448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadowofahunter/pseuds/Shadowofahunter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Two hands. </p><p>Ten fingers."</p><p>After Portland Stiles is terrified of being possessed by the nogitsune again, when Sam and Dean go to try and help their friend they call in Cas to watch Stiles, but it turns out Stiles has a secret unbeknown even to himself that's roaring to be let loose.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Stay awake

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer I don't own anything

Two hands.  
Ten fingers.  
His fingers were long and skinny. His chewed fingernails. His hands show what he's done. Small injuries told his history.  
Stiles sat on the bed, staring at his hands. They trembled slightly he noticed. His eyes were red and bloodshot. He found it hard to concentrate. He stared at his hands open and shaking. He screwed his eyes shut and balled his hands into fists and pushed them against his eyes until he saw bursts of colour behind his lids. 

He had to force himself to drag his eyes open. Sleep was too near, he couldn't allow himself to sleep, the nogitsune might influence him again. It already made him part Grimm. What else could it have done?

He stood up slowly, everything ached: his eyes, joints even his brain. He'd had a migraine since they'd got back to the bunker two days ago. Three days. Three days without sleep. But he was still himself. Barely. He shuffled slowly to the door and winced at the soft creak as it assaulted his ears, he stepped out into the dim corridor squinting at the glowing lamps on the walls. Everything was hypersensitive but muted at the same time, he felt every grain on the concrete on the floor but it skimmed past his thoughts. A smell permeated the air, he took in a deep breath and inhaled the mouthwatering scent of bacon and eggs, Dean was cooking, Stiles felt a wave of nausea.

 

"Hey Stil- wow you look awful" Dean looked at him.  
Stiles was silent but sat down at the table head in hands,  
"Didn't you get any sleep last night?" Sam asked  
"Or the night before that" added Dean  
"Or the night before that" Stiles croaked, his throat was tight and stiff, he wanted water, getting back up he made his way to the cabinet with the glasses and nearly tripped,  
"Woah! Steady." Sam grabbed his arm, "you need to sit down"  
" 'm fine" Stiles mumbled  
"I'm no werewolf but I can that you're lying your ass off." Dean snorted, "you're nervous, you're jumpy, you're always looking for something, and you're always staring at your hands!"  
Stiles looked up at their concerned faces, he thought they hadn't noticed. His eyes had taken to sweeping rooms for the bandaged figure and hoping that this will just turn out to be a dream. A nightmare. A horror.  
But it wasn't. 

He looked up to tell the brothers but movement caught his eye. He glanced at it and saw a figure move from the shadows. Heavy boots, Dark trousers, brown bomber jacket, bandaged head. The nogitsune.  
Stiles pushed away from the table sending his chair flying, he scrambled back, "go away! No no no. Get out of my head! You're not real you're dead. No no no nonononono" he was shaking so badly he couldn't stop himself, he curled up against the cold wall and screwed his eyes shut. It couldn't be back. They killed it. Don't let be back.

A warm hand touched his shoulder and he jumped away from the contact but it was just Sam, "don't let what be back"  
He'd said his last fear aloud. He flicked his eyes to the empty corner searching for something that wasn't there. It was a hallucination.  
He let out a gasp of air, "the nogitsune"  
Sam and Dean glanced at each other fearful confusion on their expressions, "but Stiles it's dead, it's gone-"  
"It's not gone. Not completely." He stared at his hands, "it's still affecting me. That's what allowed me to be a Grimm."  
"What do you mean?"  
"Rosalee said I could see wesen because for a while I...I wasn't...me"  
"When you were possessed" Dean finished and Stiles nodded. Tears wound their way down his cheeks, he sniffed and wiped them away,  
"I can't sleep."  
"It's stopping you sleeping?" Sam asked  
"No. I can't sleep. I can't let myself sleep. That's when the nogitsune took control, I'm vulnerable then. I have to stay awake"  
"Look Stiles...you're going to kill yourself if you don't sleep-"  
"At least I won't be possessed then"  
"Don't say that. Don't you dare say that. You're one of us now. We don't give up. Ever. Do you think I gave up when I was turned into a demon? Did Sammy give up when he did the trails or when he had Lucifer messing with his head? Did Bobby give up when he fought the Leviathans? No he kept fighting. He fought till the end. You can't give up Stiles." Dean told him

Stiles remembered something Adalind told him in the spice shop, "always keep fighting" he raised his gaze to them and nodded,  
"We're going to find out how to help you Stiles. I promise you that" Sam looked directly into Stiles's eyes.  
He smiled weakly and took their hands to stand up,  
"Stiles I know how scary this is. Lucifer did the same thing to me. It's terrifying. The not sleeping, the hallucination, the overwhelming fear. But it's all in your head. You're strong. You can fight it."  
Stiles felt slightly better, he nodded again.  
"What do we do now?"


	2. Preparations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Dean think of a way to help Stiles, Dean summons Cas

SAM & DEAN  
Sam and Dean sat around a table books open but unread,  
"What do we do Dean? He's having hallucinations about the thing that possessed him! We don't even know how to cope with that!"  
Dean paused, "we might not but someone else might."   
It dawned on Sam then, "we've got to go to Beacon Hills."   
"Stiles give Lydia a phone right?"  
"Yeah he did, he has the number on his phone."  
"Where is it?"  
"In his bag in his room. Is he in there?"  
"Not sure. I'll go check" Dean stood up and strode down to Stiles's room.

As Dean rounded the corner to the room he puffed out his cheeks and leant back in his chair he interlinked his fingers and put them behind his head. He was really worried about Stiles, he'd been pushed too near to the limit in Portland. His emotional limit, everything was coagulating into a lump of worry for Sam. He watched Stiles when he wasn't looking. Sam saw the dark circles around his red eyes, the trembling hands, the nervous gaze. It reminded him of when he was suffering under Lucifer's influence. But this was a trickster spirit, something that enjoys twisting minds, Lucifer did is because he was bored and vindictive.   
Dean jogged round the corner waving a phone, "Stiles was in the shower, I grabbed his phone."  
"Do you know the password?"  
"Yeah I watching him open his phone yesterday" Dean typed in the code: 6QGM387  
"I recognise that. Isn't that his Jeep plate?"  
Dean snorted, "yeah I think it is"  
The scrolled through his contacts until he came across 'LYDIA OTHER PHONE'  
"This must be it"  
"We've got to tell Stiles we're going."  
"Don't tell him where though. Tell him it's a case" Dean told him over his shoulder  
"Sure thing"

Sam knocked on the bathroom door, it was silent, "Stiles?"  
No answer Sam pushed the door open and saw it was empty. On the floor was a shattered toothbrush holder, there was blood on one of the shards, "Stiles?!" Worry oozed into Sam. He hurried to Stiles's room and pushed the door open, Stiles was sitting on his bed holding some material to his palm, "you ok?"   
Stiles jumped, "yeah yeah. I'm fine"  
"What happened?"  
"Cut my hand. I dropped the toothbrush thing and I cut my hand on a shard as I went to pick it up."  
Sam sat down next to Stiles, he sighed and pulled a hand though his hair, "this is crappy timing but a case has just come up-"  
Stiles made to move to pack,   
"Oh no. You're not going."  
"Why?"  
"Because you'll kill yourself or us! Seriously Stiles you need to stay here, you can barely stand up. How are you going to fight? Stay here and rest. Get better. We want you back"  
Stiles nodded mutely hanging his head

Dean out down the phone and stood up, he looked up at the ceiling, "Cas, if you can hear me. We need your help man. Stiles...Stiles isn't doing well. He's hurt and Sam my and I are going to try and find a way to help him."  
"How do I help?" Came Cas's voice behind him  
"Jeez Cas!" Dean jumped, "don't do that!"  
Cas looked confused, "but you prayed"  
"I meant don't...forget about it. We need you to watch Stiles."  
"Whats wrong with him?"  
"He's not sleeping, he's hallucinating, he's paranoid"  
"Is he possessed?"  
"Memories of being possessed. Sammy and I are gonna go to Beacon Hills and talk to Mcall's pack to ask how to help him"  
Cas nodded.


	3. Siren's song

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles dreams

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took a while to do. Had writers block :) hope you enjoy and an constrictive criticism or comments is great. Tried to work on chapter length.

STILES

Sam and Dean had left in the '67 not long ago, the black car pulled out into the road leaving only its roar behind, but Stiles had sat on his bed unmoving. He sat on his mattress thinking. 

In his head he ran through his thoughts, he was encompassed by an overwhelming fear of being possessed. That was his nightmare. He remembered the mind numbing cold, the souls grating isolation. He remembered twisting the katana sword in Scott and feeling the nogitsune's' rush of animal joy at the pain if brought the werewolf. When it blew up the police station and the power he held over everyone. When he trapped Lydia and broke the final dagger taking command of the Oni. Stiles had been a backseat bystander in his own head, he'd hated it but some deep warped part of him remembered liking it too.  
He sighed hating himself for those thoughts, he hated the influence the demon had over him and flopped back onto his bed but pain shot through his already aching skull, he looked at his hand covered with the newly applied bandage but it started to swim, nausea rose up in his throat and he closed his eyes tightly fighting the wave. When he tried to open them again they felt leaden and far too heavy to lift...

He tried to speak but his voice was submerged under the drunken weight of sleep, he knew he can't sleep... He can't sleep...sleep...it sang to him a sirens song, sweet, soporific and melodious. 

His eyes snapped open. He tried to sit up but he was restrained. Panic welled up like blood in a cut, he struggled and then saw he was captive in a five point restraint bed, just like the one Oliver was strapped to in Eichen House. Was he in Eichen House? He craned his neck searching for any clues to his dingy whereabouts. Nothing jumped out, he scanned it again and spotted a flash of red,  
"Hey! Hey! Who are you?" He was desperate, he pulled against the thick leather bindings.  
"Stiles..." A grating voice hissed through the stillness. Stiles froze, paralysed with terror, he slowly turned to fully face the sound. A tall figure stalked out the darkness. Metal boots, long stained brown cloak, helmet. Red orbs. The Surgeon was staring him in the face.  
"Stiles...continue with transformation"  
"No please don't do this please don't" he begged the metallic man but it approached dragging a doctor's instrument table behind it. Needles, scalpels and too many other horrific items lay eager to taste Stiles's flesh and blood. The soft mattress hardened into the solid table in the Dread Doctor's lair.  
Stiles couldn't contain his all consuming fear and he screamed.  
The Surgeon lifted a scalpel high above its head and brought it down to Stiles's exposed, unprotected chest. He screamed louder and claimed his eyes shut.  
No pain came but he was impacted with the force of a werewolf punch right to his solar plexus.  
He slammed his eyes open gasping and heaving. Oxygen wouldn't enter his lungs, they felt flat and empty. He panicked again and bent over to try suck in a morsel of air but his head hit more metal. The shock of being trapped again seemed to release Stiles's chest. He gasped greedily breathing in the precious oxygen his body so desperately craved, he put out a hand to steady his shaking legs.  
He fought to control the raging emotions swirling round him in a whirlwind of fearful panic. He pushed himself back onto the cool thin metal surrounding him.  
"Cmon Stiles get control" he took in a deep stuttering breath, held it, and breathed out a calming one. He opened his eyes and pushed hard in the walls around him, he hit them testing their strength, a hollow echo reverberated around him like a gym locker being slammed shut. He was in a locker, a school locker. He opened his palms and smashed them into the flimsy door.  
He stumbled out finding himself in a freezing, dank, gloomy room. Large cylinders were placed around the area, the walls were concrete and Stiles felt each minuscule edge of the sand particles in the material as he brushed a hand across it. Everything felt real, even the air smelled close and damp. Stiles stepped further into the dim room. He swept his gaze over the space trying to find an exit or a weapon. He saw a couch. A paper covered couch.  
Stiles frowned. Why was a couch there? He slowly approached the seat, as he got closer he saw the pieces of paper all had diagrams and writing on them. He stopped to pick one up and saw a head was sketched on it, the eyes were closed as though the person was peaceful or sleeping. Multiple lines lead out from the skull, angles and numbers floated around indicating entry points. On the back of the page was another drawing: a drill with a long spiralling screw on the top, built for breaking through bone, entering flesh. Made for trepanation. 

He gasped and threw the sheet away as he remembered where he was; the basement of Eichen House. He spun round, "Malia? Malia!" 

Silence

He turned around again and spotted a hole in the wall, he walked to it feeling a tightness in his chest arise. The hole was big. Big enough for him to fit through. But the space beyond was filled. The ancient corpse of Reese sat slumped in the withered chair, his open mouth gaped at him laughing a long dead empty laugh. Stiles stood stock still terror infected every cell of him, it's tendrils curled around his heart grasping it in the cold embrace. He couldn't be back here. Was he sleep walking? He backed away again until his legs hit the couch, the old material fraying at his touch, he looked down at it as it disintegrated before his eyes until all the was left was a pile of grey dust, suddenly the room started to fade. The walls became soft and malleable they folded over and the roof came pouring down. Stiles shouted and crouched down covering his head.

A blinding light surrounded him now. He blinked in the harsh light, he stood up. He was back in the limbo where he went with Scott and Allison to save their parents, the White Walls mocked him with no escape. He just wanted to get out of this confusing terror filled place. He looked for an exit trying to control the building panic that fluctuated in him. As he turned around he felt something heavy in his hands, it was hard and cold. He glanced down at it and saw he was holding a gun. A pistol.  
"Stiles?" Stiles whipped his head up and saw Scott standing in front of him, he stood along side Lydia, Kira, Liam, Malia and right at the end stood Allison, she was pale. Pale as the night she bled out at Oak Creek. She was silent but her eyes induced the greatest fear out of all of them before Stiles, she looked accusing and hatred poured from her, he had to look away.  
"Do it Stiles" she hissed at him, he looked back at her, "you've done it before. Why not again?"  
"What are you talking about?" He whispered  
"Killing you're friends"  
"Allison?"  
"Do it Stiles..."  
His arm started to rise of its own accord, Stiles tried with every fibre of his being to stop the motion but it steadily rose until it pointed straight at Malia, "Malia RUN! I can't stop it please! Malia!"  
She didn't move she stood arms slightly away from her sides as though to flee. She didn't, "Stiles please don't! Stiles!"  
"Malia RUN!" Stiles felt the muscles in his finger contract and felt the trigger be pulled back. He yelled but the bullet pierced Malia's chest and she flew to the ground blood spraying out in an arc around her dead body as she collapsed Stiles was crying, salty tears ran down his cheeks, his wrist flicked to Liam who stood eyes round and petrifiedhe put his hands infront of him, "Stiles please don't, stop!"  
Stiles didn't say anything he put every effort into trying to move the pistol but it stayed frozen, a bang and Liam dropped.  
Allison stepped over the bodies of his dead friends, "see Stiles. That wasn't that hard was it? What did I tell you Stiles? I told you were going to kill them" stiles felt his eyes become wide with horror, the nogitsune smiled using Allison's mouth, his arms smoothly switched to Kira, "we are going to kill them all"  
The trigger tightened  
"one"  
Bang, Kira crumpled, blood pumped from a hole in her heart  
"By"  
Bang, next Lydia gracefully toppled sideways, her arms floating out from her sides as she crumpled her hair licked her head like fire which died with her  
"One"  
Bang, Scott grasped his neck trying to hold the bullet wound closed but it had sliced an artery and Scott's life poured down his front. He gurgled and reached out to Stiles  
"SCOTT!" Stiles lunged to reach his dying friend but his feet were stuck, "no Scott no please PLEASE! SCOTT!" Hot pain filled tears covered his cheeks as he stretched his hand to touch the friend he had already lost.  
"We killed all of them Stiles" Allison whispered triumphantly grinning at him, her eyes shone an eerie white as she approached him.  
He wanted to kill the creature using his dead friend's body, he wanted it to suffer like he did, like they all did, he growled and wrenched his feet from the ground and crashed into the demon.

It laughed from behind glass but now it wore his own face, Stiles looked at himself, red eyes, hair splayed everywhere and the blood that dripped from his mouth. The demon laughed at Stiles as he pushed the glass screaming in frustration,  
"Why did you make me kill them? What was it for?!" He yelled at it  
"Why did you kill them Stiles? You held the gun"  
"No you made me, you...you made me" he was crying again  
"You killed all your friends Stiles, now you have no one. Let me in"  
Stiles froze, "what?" He whispered, his voice trembling  
"Let. Me. In."  
"No. I won't not again, it cost me too much, cost everyone to much"  
"Let me in!"  
"No"  
Let me in"  
"Shut up"  
"Let me in"  
Stiles screamed at smashed his first into the glass, the demon roared, Stiels saw his face twist in fury, his eyes darkened, his pupils dilated until the darkness consumed his hazel irises and the dark tendrils escaped into the white of his eyes.  
"This is who you are Stiles! This is what you are! This is what you'll become!"  
"No! You're lying! I won't! I can't!"  
"LET ME IN!" The monster bellowed and it punched straight through the glass, grabbed Stiles's shirt and dragged him out.


	4. The Spark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles finds something out about himself

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here I added in Stiles's spark. I'm experimenting with his powers what he can do, he's going to be quite powerful but he needs to learn how to control them first.

Stiles flung himself up gasping for breath as though he'd been held underwater for hours, he was shaking he couldn't control it. He looked round the room and found he was still in the bed, he'd fallen asleep.  
"It was just a dream" he was surprised at how fragile his voice sounded, he felt just how he did when he saw his mother die, he felt like the same young innocent eight year old boy who had lost his mum. Putting his hand to his cheek he felt dampness and realised he must have cried even as he dreamed, what else had he done? Cried out? screamed?  
Stiles groaned and put his head in his hands, sighing he stood up and paced down the empty corridor.  
The bunker was silent so when he spotted Cas he raised his eyebrows, "are you my babysitter?" He hid his swirling emotions under sarcasm, if he'd leant anything from Dean it was how to perfect that.  
"Of a sort, yes" Cas replied, "Dean told me to watch you. You're tired"  
"You're observation skills are phenomenal Cas. Yes I'm tired, I'm exhausted." Stikes rubbed his eyes and scrunched his brows together, he felt a migraine coming on.  
"I can help with that" he reached out to touch his forehead  
"Woah you're not doing that! Dean told me funny stuff's happened when you've done that before." Stiles backed off smiling slightly, his smile vanished, "can you tell me something Cas?"  
"What do you want me to tell you?" Cas looked concerned  
Stiles ran a hand through his hair, "why...why do you always help me Cas? I mean you always come, without fail. Every time. You come for Sam and Dean when they really need it but you wouldn't come here and stay if one of them was in my place. Why do you do it?"  
Cas looked at Stiles, "you play a very important part in our future."  
"Our future"  
"Everyone's future. You save us all Stiles."  
"How?"  
"You have...power. Not a lot is known about your power but Angels call it a Spark. You can manipulate energy, elements, anything really. Sparks are extremely powerful when trained, you're a Wild Spark at the moment. You have no training or any real control. But when you are you will make a huge difference to future events."  
Stiles gaped at Cas, he had power? He was magic? How? Since when had he had this power? "How long have I had this...Spark?"  
"You've had it since birth but it was...dormant. When you were possessed the nogitsune's own energy lit the Spark's flame. I can see it around you, it's strong, very strong-"  
Stiles glanced at the air around him, Cas chuckled lightly, "I can see it because I'm an Angel."  
"How do I...use it?" Stiles wanted to use this, maybe he could overcome his hallucinations  
"You need to find the part of you that is connected to the nogitsune, the Spark stays where it is in your head, you need to be inside your mind for this."  
"I have to find the nogitsune?" Dread crashed down on Stiles  
"The nogitsune is dead. It is no longer in your head. You'll know where it is, it would be like a...scar. It'll feel different. Darker. Your Spark will be there."  
"How do I get in my head?" Stiles wanted to find this and take control of his head again.  
"I can help with that. I can take you there but I can't enter your mind. You'll be on your own."  
Stiles was nervous, could he do it? Hell he was meant to save everyone Harry Potter style or something. He looked at his hands, ten fingers.  
"I'll do it"

Cas made him sit in a chair and then he reached out two fingers and touched them to Stiles's head. A brilliant blue-white light filled Stiles's vision and mind he drew in a sharp breath and felt himself fade from his corporal state and almost be sucked into his head. 

Stiles blinked out the brightness and found himself in the blank white area where he played the game of GO with the nogitsune once before. Stiles walked forwards sweeping his gaze from side to side trying to spot something.  
"Stiles..." His name hissed around him. Stiles spun round trying to find who said, "Stiles...Stiles...Stiles...Stiles" the voice echoed his name over and over until all he heard was a blur of his repeated name. Stiles turned on the spot searching until the voices became to much, he crouched covering his ears,  
"Shut up" he whispered, "shut up!" Nothing happened, the voices swirled around his ears, "SHUT UP!" He roared. Silence. He looked up at nothing unsure what just happened. He climbed to his feet, glancing around him again.  
"If I find Voldemort under a chair I'm done" he mumbled to himself brushing his sweaty hands on his jeans. He sighed then set off straight ahead, may as well move rather than be a sitting duck.  
Time seemed to have no value here. Seconds warped into indefinite amounts of time. Minutes were uncountable. Hours meant nothing. Stiles paced through the space waiting for something. 

He glanced to his right, nothing. When he looked on again a gigantic felled tree stump stood in his way. The roots had broken through the glossy tiles, ripped them up. The Nemeton sat in the middle of the room. Warily Stiles approached it, he felt drawn to it. The inexplicable power that emanated from the wood enticed him.  
As he got closer Stiles noticed the rings that looped round and round the trees core, breathing softly he reached out to touch it. 

Then a darkness wrapped around his hand. It tugged his away from the Nemeton. Stiles's eyes followed the tendrils. They lead to a blurry figure. The same figure that had once possessed him. The nogitsune snarled viciously looping in the dark ropes secured around Stiles's wrists. He yelled fighting them off tugging at them willing them to loosen. He drew nearer to his foe. Still Stiles fought. Nearer he was pulled. Stiles was crying now gasping at the force the demon was using,  
"You can't escape me Stiles" it hissed  
Panic pulsed round Stiles, his could feel each heartbeat as it pounded painfully in his chest, "no you're dead! YOU'RE DEAD!" With a huge effort Stiles yanked his hands backwards and yelling he snapped the ropes, the darkness dissipated into nothing. The demon stood regarding him then it began to approach. Quickly. Without thinking Stiles brought up his hands and pushed the air in front of him, energy shockwaves emanated from his palms, they bombarded the nogitsune throwing it backwards.  
Shock hit Stiles just as hard, how had he done that? He glanced up at the prone figure rising once more. Stiles closed his eyes sucked in a breath, waiting for the demon to get close, then snapped his eyes open and punched it. His fist disintegrated the demon. His balled up hand broke the nogitsune's chest entering its shadowy insides, it froze. Stiles retracted his hand breathing hard. Then still looking at Stiles the nogitsune tilted its head forwards almost like a bow at the end of a judo fight. 

Shadows seemed to emerge from the dying body, the shade coagulated into the ghostly form of a fox. It's sharp face bared its fangs then sprang from the bandaged that collapsed into a heap. The deathly fox bounded forwards, behind it was a cloud of tails, each ending in a smokey tip fading into nothing. The fox glanced back once more snapped its jaws, it's void eyes glaring at its old host then vanished. 

Stiles stood still his mouth slightly open, had he done it? Had he just killed the demon once and for all? A hum came from behind him, he turned and saw the Nemeton waiting for him. So he walked to it once again, the tiny ridges casting miniature shadows into the surface, Stiles glanced round to check there were no Kanimas or other monsters from is past waiting to pounce. 

Stiles faced the stump again and tentatively stretched out a hand. When his fingers came into contact with the rough ancient surface the rings lit up with a pale blue-white energy, it flowed round the tree, gaining speed. Then it slowly rose from the ancient wood, it danced around as though rejoicing its it being freed, it started to make a formless matter. Its brightness intensified until it was almost too bright to look at. The shape solidified into a humanoid shape, the blinding light dimmed to a shine to a soft glow, the figure was a woman, she had wavy brown hair, deep chocolate eyes, a loving smile. His mother stood before Stiles.  
His mother was his power. His Spark. When he realised this she smiled even more,  
"Stiles" her voice was melodious and tender, she opened her arms wide, he stepped into her embrace. He was crying again but they were tears of joy, he gripped her clothes and closed his eyes breathing in her smell, she smelt fresh, like she'd just come in from outdoors, also there was a hint of lavender.  
"Mum, I've missed" he whispered,  
"I've missed you too Stiles, I've missed you so much. I'm so sorry I couldn't been with you"  
"Dad...dad was hit hard. He drank. I watched him though. I wanted to help but I didn't know how"  
"You wouldn't have, what you did helped more than you can imagine." She placed her chin on the top of Stiles's head, she stroked his hair and softly smiled again,  
"Everything was ok then I guess, until-"  
"Until Scott got bitten?"  
Stiles pulled away and looked at his mum, "how do you know about that?"  
"When I was in heaven I could...'see through the veil' if you will. I caught glances of you and your father. Those times were the happiest and saddest times of my life, well death. I could watch you but could never talk to you. I saw when Scott was bitten, when you saved everyone Stiles.  
"The worst time was when you were possessed. For a time you were so close to death that your figure could almost be seen standing at the door. You seemed unsure whether or not you were going to come through, I begged you not to. I couldn't let you die. Then you fought back."  
"You said a door?" Stiles interrupted  
"The door to death, the last gate. Once you die you pass through, it sounds scary but once you're through you accept wheat happened, you can't get back out."  
"Donavan did" Stiles whispered his voice splintering  
"Donavan was not your fault Stiles." Fierce defiance shone in his mother's eyes, "it was self defence. You are not to blame at all."  
She put her hand on his shoulder and Stiles felt happiness surge through him, he smiled and nodded at her.  
"So what do I do now?" He asked  
"Now it's up to you."  
"What is?"  
"I don't know really but you are the...key. The antidote to future events. You and your brothers will save the world, Stiles."  
"I'm scared mum"  
"I know baby, embrace it. Train the fear. Control it." She smiled broadly again, "I love you so much Stiles. I'm so proud of you"

Then she came closer to Stiles and reached out a hand, it passed right through him and entered his chest warming his whole person. Stiles felt the power through him it exhilarated him beyond belief. He sucked in a deep breath and tilted his head back, stretching his fingers. He felt the power in him. His Spark.


	5. Telephone talks

Sam and Dean drove through the country heading for California. The roar of Baby's engine was the only sound audible over Dean's cassette blaring out 'Hotel California' by the Eagles and Dean's voice yelling the lyrics.   
Sam looked up from his phone after seeing no calls from either Cas or Stiles and smirked at Dean.  
He sucked in a deep breath,leaned forwards and turned the volume down. Dean halted in the middle of singing and shot Sam a glare, "hey man?!"   
"I've been thinking"  
"Dangerous" Dean reached back and grabbed a beer taking a swig of it  
"Ha. Ha. Dean you are hilarious" Sam dead panned, "we need to talk about the Pack."  
"What Mcall's Pack?"  
"Yeah"  
"What about them?"  
"We didn't exactly leave on the best of terms"  
"Yeah" Dean frowned and thought back to his conversation with Lydia, the Banshee. 

She'd picked up after only four rings, "Stiles!?" Her voice was excited and hopeful  
"Er no... It's Dean actually" he answered   
"Oh" she sounded despondent a tone Dean was not used to hearing when he said hi, "hi Dean"  
"Hi Lydia"  
"Is Stiles ok?"   
"That's what this call is about. He's...sick"  
"What like-"  
"It's complicated. He's hallucinating, he's not sleeping and is in the verge of a breakdown. What we need you to do is to get Mcall's head out of his ass so we can come and see him and his Pack to see if there is a reedy from your weird vet. The Druid"  
"How did you-"   
"We know people and research."  
"Oh...ok" she paused, "well as it happens I am on my way to Scotts house for a pack meeting. I can bring it up then."  
"Well tell him he'd better make up his mind soon, we are only a few days out of Beacon hills. He can forget the welcome party"  
Lydia huffed a laugh, "I'll tell him"  
"Thanks Lyds, can I call you Lyds?"  
"Yeah" she replied, look I'm getting close to his house and with his werewolf hearing he can pick up both sides of this conversation soon. I'll get back to you, Dean"  
"Dean? Dean? You listening?"  
The memory of Lydia's voice morphed into Sam's. Dean blinked and heard a phone ringing too.  
"Where is your phone Dean?"   
"In the back" Dean gestured with his thumb over into the back of the Impala  
Sam reached back and rummaged through the debris of a hunt and pulled out Dean's phone. Lydia's name glowed back at him  
"Dean?"  
"Sam"   
"Hi Sam."  
"Any news about Scott?"  
"Well we had a Pack meeting and I brought it up. At first he wasn't keen on the idea of you two coming into town as - to quote him - 'you only bring more trouble with you' "  
"He's not lying" Sam smiled  
"But when I brought up Stiles... He agreed. He feels guilty. Really guilty, they left slightly repaired but he still misses him. We all do."  
"We will be there soon Lydia. Thank you"  
"Also you guys should know, I've been getting a feeling that something is coming soon too. I don't knew what it is but my Banshee senses are tingling. Recently we've been getting much more monster activity, like we had a wendigo incident a few weeks back"  
"We will get there asap, see you Lydia - oh wait!" He suddenly remembered   
"Still here"   
"Maybe don't tell the sheriff what's going on yet"  
"I haven't yet and I'll stay quiet."  
"Ok"  
"Bye"  
Sam clicked off, "any news" Dean asked  
"Yeah, Scott allowed us to come in, but they've been getting loads more monsters recently."  
"Kill two birds with one stone I say, gank a monster and save our brother."   
Sam looked at his older brother, "when did you suddenly become philosophical?"   
"It's in the blood Samuel" Dean grinned at him  
"It's Sam"   
Dean laughed and pressed his foot harder on the gas revealing in the speed and kick of the engine, he cranked up the volume and both men's voiced rang out as they sang, 'Highway to Hell' down the long, long road.


	6. The Wild Spark

Stiles gasped, heart racing and heaved himself back to reality. His eyes were huge and his mouth open sucking in great lungfuls of air, he was in the same chair he'd fallen asleep in...did he fall asleep? His hands were flat on the table, palms down and fingers splayed wide.   
"Stiles!" Cas wasn't one to raise his voice or get over emotional, so Stiles knew something had happened.  
"What?"   
"Are you alright? Cas looked worried  
"Yeah I'm fine... What happened?"

Cas merely looked down at the table, Stiles followed his gaze and gasped, under his hands were scorch marks. An outline of his hands was burnt onto othe table slight feathering suggested the flames had spread from his fingers, ash and charcoal came off when he brushed the area, he looked at his hands and there were no blemishes. Then he expanded his field of vision to the whole table, mugs lay in fragments, pens split into shards and the ink spilt over the wood, all the bulbs had burst in their sockets, what caught his eyes most was the floating tea. The liquid hung suspended in small spheres.

Stiles stood up and the tea flopped onto the table with a soft splash.   
"What the hell" he whispered his heart was palpitating he was moving slightly because of it  
"In your trance you released a blast of energy, I managed to concentrate it into this immediate area but this" the Angel gestured to the tabletop, "is only a minuscule demonstration of the potential that you have within you, Stiles"  
Stiles puffed out his cheeks and rubbed a hand through his hair, "how do I control this if this" he jabbed a hand at the table, "is only a teeny weeny part of my powers?!"

Cas wasn't looking at Stiles as his eyes were fixed on the slowly levitating chairs all around him, "Stiles, calm down. Now you've accessed your power you have to be in control, you are still Wild. Calm down"  
Stiles blinked and glanced at the seats hovering and tried to let them drop but they resolutely stayed where they were, "what do I have to say a magic word, like the reverse of 'wingardium leviosa'?"  
"I don't understand, why would you say a partially Latin phrase?" Cas looked genuinely confused  
"It's from Harry Pott- never mind. How do I get these goddam chairs back down to Earth?!"  
As he got more frustrated the chairs gradually rose higher and one by one began to tremble.  
"Stiles, it is vital that you calm down, think about something, or someone that calms you down. With serenity you can do much more."

Stiles widened his eyes in slight exasperation and an image from 'Xmen - First Class' came to his head of Charles helping Eric control his powers. He took in a deep breath and cast his mind out, images and memories bombarded him but then one popped up. From the dream he had just had, his mother standing there, light haloing her hair and her smile which was more illuminating than the brightest light could ever provide.   
"Take control, Stiles, I believe in you." Her voice whispered in his ear and he felt his Spark flying through his veins.  
"You control the elements, Stiles" Cas's voice broke into this revere, "access the air around you, manipulate it to your will"

Stiles breathed softly, feeling the air rushing down his throat, cool and clear, then he pushed it out again. Inhaling and exhaling he spread his mind out to feel the air around him, it coagulated around him thickening and pulsing with energy, it felt like lightning was wrapping itself around him like a cocoon. He imagined invisible threads extending out to reach the chairs, looping round the legs and pulling them down. 

To his amazement the wooden seats gradually lowered, "are you seeing this!" Stiles cried out

However, the moment his concentration vanished so did his control. The chairs, now only a couple of feet above the ground crashed down and a few fell over.  
"Oh. Whoops"  
"Well done,Stiles" Cas smiled at him, "you should see your eyes"

Stiles frowned and walked over to the mirror in the corner of the library, he gasped as he saw in his hazel eyes the most vivid, electric blue fading from his irises.


	7. Pack Chat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the kudos and comments! They mean the world! So her is the update, I thought for a long time about Stiles' Spark and am now elaborating on it back with stiles and Cas, enjoy!

"Welcome to Beacon Hills" Sam muttered as he read the sign that greeted them into the supernatural town.   
"Where does Mcall live?" Dean asked  
"I'll direct you. Also Lydia texted to say that everyone will be at the house, like a Pack meeting. Leave your gun in the car."  
"Fine" Dean sighed and tossed the empty beer can into the back seat right into the cold box, a smile broke through his expression, "haha! Did you see that Sammy?! I should be a basketball player, or a golfer"  
"Hole in one" Sam laughed back

Scott Mcall's house wasn't hard to find, on a normal street, in a normal house a supernatural teen lived with his werewolf friends. Sam pulled a jacket over the top of his plaid shirt and waited for Dean to lock up Baby.  
"How long has it been?" Dean asked looking up at the house  
"Few years, enough that most of them would be in college, where Stiles should be..."  
"Don't you try and pull another Stanford and make him leave" Dean glowered at his brother  
"No, I mean we are stopping him from living a normal life and I kinda feel...bad" Sam shrugged his shoulders high to his ears and gave Dean wide eyes to express his guilt  
"I don't get it" Dean gave him a confused stare  
"Get what?"  
"How an Ent like you can make yourself smaller than Professor Flitwick."   
Sam laughed as they approached the door but as they reached out to knock it was pulled open, "I see Stiles has made you both watch Lord of the Rings and Harry Potter again."  
Lydia smiled at them and pulled them down into a hug, it's good to see you both"  
"You too Lydia, thanks for arranging this" Sam gratefully replied  
The brothers walked into the house and were greeted with a pleasant homely feel: sofas around a coffee table, flowers in vases, a slightly pissed off werewolf pack. 

Homely.

"Sam, Dean. Nice to see you" Scott hesitantly spoke  
"Scott" Sam held out a hand which the Alpha shook after a pause, "You know why we are here. We need to help Stiles"  
"What's wrong with him?" Malia bluntly asked  
"We aren't sure-"  
"And you left him?" Scott demanded, incredulous   
"With an angel" Dean interrupted and smirked when that shut them up.  
"We need to talk with Deaton."  
"Not until you tell us what's going on." A younger guy stood, jaw jutting, arms crossed and resolute, "what's wrong with Stiles?"  
Sam sighed and ran a hand through his long hair, "fine. Sit."  
Sam and Dean sat opposite the Pack who were either crammed on one sofa or standing and sitting by it. 

Sam began talking  
"After we left here we went on various hunts. We trained Stiles but after years of living either the supernatural he slotted in comfortably." Sam saw Scott shift in his seat, guilt and sadness evident on his face, nevertheless Sam pressed on eager to begin, "One such trail led us to Portland. This case led us to find out about Grimms."  
"Grimms?" Scott interrupted  
"A special type of person who can see a supernatural called Wesen." Dean explained  
"Anyways" Sam continued, "turns out that Stiles is a Grimm too-"  
"What? Why didn't he tell us!" The young guy demanded  
"Liam, calm down" Scott warned the boy  
"He didn't know." Dean admitted, "turns out he's not a natural Grimm. There was a book of Grimms, long lines of history and Stiles wasn't in it. We were unaware of anything going on at this point and so Stiles had a moment with the Grimm and wesen where they made the deduction that when he was possessed by the nogitsune it opened that part of his mind and letting him see Wesen."  
Sam slotted in following the perfect Segway, "but that wasn't the only part."  
"What do you mean?" Malia demanded  
"Slow down Wild E coyote, we'll tell you" Dean rolled his eyes with a placating hand, the girl scowled in response and her eyes flashed a light blue.  
"When he was possessed" Sam hurried on, "part of him that has been inside him forever was...well the 'on' switch was hit."  
"On what?" Scott quietly asked  
"His Spark."

The confused silence was palpable,  
"What is a Spark?" Scott asked  
"I've read about it...once, in passing." Lydia looked up at Sam and Dean, "how?"  
"He was born with it" Sam answered, "the nogitsune sparked his...Spark"  
"But with that came problems" Dean followed up, "hallucinations, paranoia, insomnia. The full monty"   
"How long?"   
"Who knows?" Dean shrugged, "he only really began showing serious side effects after Portland, but they could've been going on for months, years even, before."  
"Crap" Scott ran a frustrated hand through his hair, "why didn't he say anything?"  
"It's stiles." Sam dead panned, "he covers his feelings and focuses on others."  
"What can he do?" Malia butted in  
"We don't know" Sam replied  
"Out friend Cas-" Dean continued   
"Who?"  
"Cas, an angel"  
"Oh"  
"He pretty much implied that his power is as great as he wants it to be, he could nudge a paper clip or destroy a city."  
"Wow"  
"But isn't the power dangerous?" Lydia questioned  
"Very" Sam nodded, "a Spark uses Energy, it is energy honestly. Energy cannot be created or destroyed, only converted. The energy inside Stiles is what he will use when he engages the power of his Spark. So if he needs to create...fire for example he will feel cold as the Spark is draining his thermal energy. Understand?"  
"Yes" Lydia replied  
"Sort of" the rest of the Pack answered  
Lydia sighed and rolled her eyes slightly and turned her back on them facing Dean and Sam instead, "so what happens if he exhausts himself too much?"  
"We don't know." Dean admitted, "right now Cas is with him healing him."

Lydia opened her mouth to reply but right then an icy wind blasted through the room sending the Windows crashing open.  
"And that is our other problem" Dean looked round the room, "what's the monsters CV?"


	8. Impes

Stiles gazed into the mirror long after the colour had faded from his hazel irises, mouth agape, breath fogging the mirror, "what was that?"  
"Your Spark."  
"Wow" he breathed  
"How do you feel?" Cas asked still sitting down  
Stiles pushed himself away from the mirror, "fine I guess, I bit...weird"  
Cas looked sharply up, "what do you mean?"  
"I feel tired...and" he sighed rubbing his hand over his hair, "I dunno how to say it...lacking...I feel like I've been shoved under water and I can still feel it around me. Like I have a pressure around me."  
"That's your Spark. When you engage one aspect of it, such as you used your air element there, you get the opposite element in an unbalanced proportion."  
Stiles turned to face Cas and walked over to a chair and flopped down in it, "explain"  
"Elements are paired, conflicting pairs if you will. Air and water, fire and ice...earth and void." Cas pressed on seeing Stiles' face drop, "when you use your power it draws upon your own energy, that's why you feel tired. But as you've just used your air elemental power you now have imbalanced the equilibrium within you so that's why you feel the water element more, as the energy that symbolises air has been converted into that power. It takes time for the balance to equal out again but as you train it will be quicker."  
"So I have to keep the balance equal...or what?"  
"You die. If you used your air element too much then you could drown. The water energy would be in too great a 'concentration' within you" Cas wiggled his fingers in advert end commas around the word, "and consequently you would 'drown'." Again he made the bunny ears, "have I got it yet?"  
"Not quite buddy" stiles softly smiled, then he sat back into the chair and puffed out his cheeks, "this is way more complicated than Hogwarts."  
"Why is a hairy pig pimple complicated?" Cas squinted at Stiles who threw back his head with mirth, however, he quickly stifled it and he became serious,  
"What did you mean when you said void?" He looked up at Cas owlishly.  
The Angel debated telling him the honest truth straight out but then the tiny part of him that still remained from his short time as a human smacked him and he took a breath, "it can be called void, space, chasm or Chaos-"  
"Like the Greek or Roman Chaos?" Stiles intervened  
"Yes, that base power of Chaos is where it came from, as you know before there was anything, before darkness even, there was Chaos. A minuscule fraction of his power lies within you."  
"Does my earth power then come from Gaia?"  
"Possibly" Cas slowly nodded thinking, "however, your power does not derive from the Ancient Greek and Roman gods and goddesses"  
"Shame, it'd be cool if it did." He thought for a moment, "can you teach me?"  
The Angel raised his eyebrows but Stiles' eager face made it impossible to refuse, "OK"  
"Can we practice in the combat rooms, no chairs to elevate"  
"You can do much more than that Stiles. Much more."

 

The next few days passed in a whirl of adrenaline (both highs and crashes), concentration and sleep.

After every session Stiles would have to sleep, he found that after a nap his equilibrium would be normal and would readjust much faster.

Right now he was sitting on his bed staring at his hands, now he didn't fear them. He narrowed his mind down and focused on bringing his thermal energy to his hands. As more and more heat flowed into his hands they began to glow, especially his veins and arteries, then he drew the heat our of his palms and into a small sphere floating a few inches off his skin, it was hot but it didn't burn him. He grinned at his success, dislike the cool feeling that seeped into him.

While he may feel impervious to the heat or cold or whatever he was wielding he was not so protected, once while trying to throw a ball of fire - not dissimilar to this very one - he burned off half an eyebrow.

The little sphere hovered in front of him and he willed it to zoom around the room, he laughed out loud as his fire ball whooshed past his ears and he imagined it to be a tiny dragon soaring in his room. Almost as soon as the idea formed in his head the sphere morphed, it squashed down, small flaps grew from the sides and it elongated until there was indeed a miniature dragon flapping in front of his face.

"Holy-" he stared at the creature and held out his hand, the dragon flapped its tiny wings hard to land gently in his palm. Once settled it looked up at Stiles expectantly.

The dragon was very reptilian, round eyes stared up at him, ridges over them led down to his nostrils. Tiny firey fangs poked from under its scaley lips. The dragons body was encrusted with minuscule glowing scales, smaller diamond shaped ones covered its whole body except it's neck, chest and underbelly. There wide scales fortified its tiny front. Two front legs stood between the two folded back ones, it's sitting position was remarkably similar to how a dog sits. Tiny claws curved from the tips of the three digits of its paws lightly pressing on Stiles' palm. The dragon puffed a small breath of ashy smoke expectantly waiting for Stiles. It's wings lightly fluttered, it had a double pair of wings, a larger pair on top with little barbs tipping the ends of the finger like limbs spidering through the firey membrane of the wings. The smaller pair of wings were much more bird like, while the top pair were very similar to a bats wing the bottom pair seemed to have feathers flowing out from itself ending in flickering flames. It's body was small and lithe, perfect for speed and agility, it's tail was long and wound its way around Stiles' little finger. Small spines poked up from its scales, they rose from between its nose ridges and fell back down again at the end of tail. Cresting its head were horns, they poked out straight fanning down his neck dissipating at its withers. 

Stiles gawked at the dragon. It was beautiful, how has he done this?? He felt sad that the dragon would only stay as long as he could hold it, then it would vanish. He gazed at his creation and was transfixed at the seemingly ever shifting fire that created the dragon.   
"Go on buddy, I can see you're bursting. Fly" he whispered smiling

The dragon purred and leapt off his hands, wings outstretched. 

"I should name you" Stiles mused, he thought of all the modern dragons with good names and listed through them, Toothless? Clearly not. Drogon? Too aggressive for his dragon. Smaug? Maybe. Then an idea popped in his head when he remembered the scene from 'The Hobbit' when Smaug was blasting through the halls of Erebor. 

His eyes never left the swooping dragon that was zooming around his room joyously puffing little balls of smoke around him then flashing though it breaking it apart. Suddenly the dragons stopped and a hacking sound came from its chest, it halted mid-flight and hovered while it still was coughing. Stiles jumped up and approached it, worried. The hacking smokers cough became more intense until it sounded like the tiny dragon was about to throw its guts up. 

Then a spurt of fire shot from its jaws and the dragon blinked then looked up at Stiles and he saw its eyes glittering and he understood that it was ecstatic and was almost saying "yeah, look what I just did. Suck it!", he laughed at the dragon who had set off again and was soaring around his room hurling miniature balls of fire. 

"Impes" he muttered, the Latin word for fire, also attack. It suited the little fire dragon nicely. He held out his hand and the dragon landed smoothly in the centre of his hand, sat down and looked up at him.   
"I'm gonna give you a name" he smiled as he stroked the dragon's head with the back of a finger, "I'm going to call you Impes-" 

The second he named him Impes The dragon shivered and huffed out a breath of smoke and flexed his paws pushing his claws into Stiles' palm, he also seemed to become more solid even though nothing changed. Stiles frowned slightly at the actions but pushed it away, "come on, I'll show you to Cas." 

Impes then scuttled up his arm and settled on his shoulder huffing warm air into his ear, "hey! Quit it!" He giggled. Impes purred gently and nuzzles his snout into his neck right into his jugular. Warmth crept back into him and he felt his equilibrium rebalance.  
"What are you doing?"   
Impes flicked out a forked younger at the question and cocked his head to one side, tail tip twitching like a cats does. 

Stiles walked through the bunker to find Cas, the Angel was staring at the coffee machine with a small frown on his face, "you ok Cas?"   
Cas looked at stiles, "yes I'm fine. Listening to Angel radio"  
"Any news?" Stiles approached the coffee machine  
"No, nothing y-" Cas halted mid phrase eyes glued on Impes, "what's that?"  
"Oh, sorry, this is Impes. I somehow created him" stiles offered his shoulder and Impes fluttered off to hover just in front of Cas' nose staring intently into the Angels eyes. Cas was forced to slightly cross his eyes to be able to watch the dragon.   
"You named him?"   
"Yeah, I mean I know he's going to disappear when I can't hold him anymore but-"  
"No, Stiles. He won't" Cas blinked and a small smile showed on his face, "this was my next lesson. Once you name something it becomes easier to summon, for example a Lighting Strike attack, now you've named it you will be able to summon up that energy much smoother and quicker. However, you've named him now but something is different. He is sentient. As you've named him you've...solidified his existence. He won't leave you, he is a physical representation of you power. That is a powerful feat, Stiles. Not every Spark can do that. Guard him well, he is part of you." Impes fluttered slightly closer and brought Cas's attention back to him but now he was practically fully cross-eyed and head was drawn back to try to keep Impes in focus, "um Stiles, could you stop him from doing this. It's making me uncomfortable."

Stiles, still processing that he pretty much had a pet dragon now, blinked and touched his shoulder to call Impes to him. 

The dragon and the Angel were both squinting at each other, studying and analysing the other supernatural creature before them. Then Impes huffed and flew back to Stiles settling on his shoulder humming with happiness.   
"What else can he do?" Stiles asked gently stroking Impes' wings  
"I don't know. But from seeing how you can alter sizes and velocities of your normal elemental energies you could try doing the same with him?" Cas responded  
"Huh" Stiles looked down at Impes, "so little guy, you feel like trying it out?"  
Impes squeaked in agreement and took off circling Stiles. 

"Now you must reach out to Impes, you have to connect with him and then you can manipulate him as you would any other energy."  
Stiles nodded and focused on Impes. He felt his eyes rekindle into the colour of fire. 

After the initial shock of seeing himself with blue eyes Stiles found out that every element turned his eyes a different colour: Lightning and air was electric blue, water deep turquoise like an ocean, fire was like liquid fire not dissimilar to Parrish, ice turned his eyes a pearly white, Earth made his eyes turn grey like weathered rocks and Chaos made his eyes endless - his pupil would become huge swallowing his eyes but it was not the blackness of possession it was the ancient power of everything.

Linking minds with Impes was easy. The dragons mind was complicated and slightly jumbled, like Stiles' brain probably. Nevertheless Stiles pushed through to connect with the essence of Impes, then he felt it click. 

He felt Impes' wings stretch and flex with each wing push. He felt how his tail balanced his flight and saw through the dragons eyes. Stiles pulled his focus in and tried to manipulate the fire that is the very dragon. Moving his hands in time he increased the size of the fire eyes shut and frowning. 

A burst of hot air and hurried footsteps made him open his eyes. Cas was backed up into a corner, why he was became obvious when Stiles saw a dragon the size of a large horse sitting next to him. Impes rumbled with happiness and stretched out his great neck to nuzzle Stiles.   
"Woah! Buddy you're bigger and stronger now!" He laughed as he was nearly pushed over. 

While as a smaller or baby dragon his features had been more rounded and clumsier looking, now, as a adolescent dragon his features were more angular and elegant, his great eyes held more knowledge and were slightly less round and more almond shaped, his horns were more prominent and a winding pattern was already starting to sneak up them, he laid a hand on his dragons' broad snout, joy bubbling up making his hand tremble slightly and Impes pushed his nose fowards, nostrils twitching, but Stiles was not pushed back. He was absorbed by the dragon until he was inside Impes. He was Impes, he moved him but still felt Impes' mind. The were one, he opened his mouth and roared.


	9. Flight

His heart thumped with the thrill, he was a FREAKING DRAGON!! How insane is that?! He knew that really he shouldn't roar in the kitchen but who cares, he snapped his jaws shut and purred with pleasure. Cas looked slightly up at him eyes wide and full of wonder. Stiles snaked his head forwards and blew warm air in his friend's face. Stiles then explored the rest of his body, a tail felt weird and heavy but not awkward, it was his double pairs of wings that he loved the most, the weight of them was incredible, the power that lay coiled in his huge shoulder muscles was enough to control them. He stretched them out slightly to see the feathered limbs. The firey quills stayed still while the barbs that fanned off it seemed to work its way down the quill until the end where a small tail of fire trailed off giving it a living quality. Stiles twitched the tail and stared as he made it lift and drop with a thump but he moved it too much and unbalanced himself, wings flapping, tail and limbs flailing he squawked as he tumbled back and instinctively curled himself in a ball. He hit the ground and realised he was human again and a small dragon unwound itself off the floor giving him a slightly disgruntled look as though to say, "really?!" And a mushroom of smoke rose from his nostrils  
"Sorry buddy" he grinned  
Impes huffed and jumped up his arm to settle back on his shoulder. 

~~~~~~~

"Son of a BITCH!" Dean bellowed as the ghost yet again dodged his salt round, "I've only got two left Sam!"  
Sam knew he too only had three left, he relayed this information to his brother.  
The ghost stood leering at them. White lips, pale face, frayed suit. Then claws shredded through it, dissolving the spirit to gas.  
"Took your time" Dean growled  
Scott shrugged, "sorry, our claws weren't working against them so Lydia had the idea to cover out claws in salt"  
Sam raised his eyebrows, "good idea"  
Lydia smirked back, "you do know you could make this so much easier for yourselves, right? Salt filled hula hoops? Iron rings?"  
Dean scowled and drew his eyebrows in as he realised the logic.

"Who knew the founder of Beacon Hills was such a jerk?" Sam muttered as he and Dean trudged back to the Impala.  
"You could say that. I just want to find the piece that's holding Elliot back and get back to Stiles."  
"You said it"  
They heard footsteps and suddenly Lydia was next to them, "I just thought, what if Elliot isn't trying to attack anyone, what if he is protecting something"  
"Or protecting us from finding something?" Scott popped up next to her  
"Why can't anything just be a simple case in this goddamn town?" Dean groaned

The echo of a scream wailed at them as a shade of a long dead woman rushed through the trees, arms outstretched and fingers tensed. Her hair swirled around her, wide white-ringed frantic dead eyes stared at them.  
Sam raised his shotgun but the ghost suddenly halted. Her hair still thrashing around her head as if in a high wind. Her hands stayed out reaching towards the brothers and the Pack.  
"Stay..." Her mouth made it look like she was screaming for everything she was worth but it only came out as the thinnest hiss. Then she wailed again as she exploded.  
"Holy-" Dean exclaimed jumping back  
"What was that?" Scott yelped  
"That, my young lycanthrope, was me" a voice drawled out of the shadows.  
"Who the hell are you?" Malia snarled, eyes flashing an icy blue claws extended.  
"I am the darkness. I am the light. I am everything."  
Sam and Dean exchanged glances at the voices words  
"You disbelieve me? Let me demonstrate" 

~~~~~~~

It took a few more goes for Stiles and Impes to connect one more but after they got it, he felt that rush again.  
Stiles phone rang. Dean's number flashed up on the screen. Sighing he separated from Impes and answered the phone,  
"Yo Dea-"  
"Stiles! Stiles man we need you! We have...I don't even know what this sonofabitch is! I hope you're feeling up to a fight cos your friends are failing. Hurry up we need-" static filled the line  
"Dean? Dean!"  
"Stiles what's wrong?!" Cas popped into the training room  
"We need to get to Beacon Hills now, somethings wrong."  
"Stiles you are not ready-"  
"Dammit Cas! I need to help my friends."  
He strode out of the room in search of car keys then halted as he remembered that Sam and Dean had taken Baby.  
"SONOFABITCH!" He yelled.  
A soft hurr from Impes made him freeze. His little dragon was looking up at him, eyes wide and set.  
"You sure buddy? We've never tried this before"  
Impes huffed,  
"Ok, ok. Outside! Outside" he hurriedly added when the fire that made the dragon started to shift and expand as Impes transformed into his adolescent form.

Cas was still frowning as Stiles prepared to bind with Impes, "I don't like this, Stiles"  
"Yeah well neither do I really. But it's the best option now. Either way I need to help them."  
Cas opened his mouth to object but then thought the better off it and shut it.  
"See you there" Stiles said, face serious, heart palpitating and feeling slightly nauseous with nerves.  
"You have to believe it will work. Faith in yourself is vital, without it you cannot do vanished  
Stiles raised his eyebrows at the space where Cas vacated and blew out his cheeks. 

Turning back to Impes he asked him, "you ready bud?"  
In response Impes gently growled and expanded to his half size. Melding minds took no time now Stiles knew how to link with Impes, within seconds only a great dragon stood outside the bunker.  
"Ok buddy, let's go help Sam and Dean" he extended both pairs of wings, built up the tension and power within the muscles and pushed down forcing him into the air. He took a few ungainly flaps of his wings unused to the double set but with Impes' help was soon soaring. 

If he thought being a dragon was awesome, flying was goddamn CRAZY! The ground sprinted underneath him faster than any plane, any bird, anything. His joyous roar was ripped out of his throat from the speed of their flight. A soft thrum from Impes brought him back and he turned his long powerful neck towards California and Beacon Hills. He must have looked like a meteor with fire streaming out behind him. 

Soon his first home came into view. Through Impes' eyes he could see a disturbance in the atmosphere above the preserve, near the Nemeton. It was darker, like a terrible power was lying in wait. He tilted his wings and started to soar down. He heard the fight before he saw it, shouts, cries and roars made Stiles push himself faster. 

~~~~~~~

Sam caught Dean's machete as he chucked it at him and swiped at the spider-like monster running at him, Sam lopped the legs of that bitch and stepped out the way as the useless body rolled away.  
He glanced over to see Lydia punching her screams at various hideous creatures including harpies and a goddamn manticore.  
"Sam we can't hold them off much more" Scott roared, gore covering his hands and face  
A deep ferocious roar echoed through the woods and everything paused. Humans, werewolves, Angel, monsters all looked up. Suddenly an enormous dragon soared into view. It's great twisting horns burst out from the back of its skull, deep almond shaped eyes watched the ground. It had a long muscular neck that moulded into powerful shoulders and from them burst two beautiful pairs of wings, one the typical dragons wings the other were bird-like. It's tail, acting as a rudder, twitched and the dragon barrel-rolled midair. The most incredible thing about the creature was that it seemed to be made completely out of fire.  
"Now this is who I wanted to meet" the same hidden voice whispered  
The dragon circled round the clearing above the trees then it twisted, maw wide open and a torrent of flames burst out smothering the monsters that were too slow to escape. The fire seemed alive and as though it wanted to devour them.  
The dragon pulled up and landed with a thump on the ground. 

Sam glanced at Dean who stood mouth agape, then to Scott and the Pack who wore a similar expression; faces slack, hands loose at their sides, eyes wide and staring.

A light began building from within the dragons chest and in a burst of brilliant white light a person was standing next to the dragon.  
"Sorry I took so long" Stiles grinned, "what the trouble?"


	10. Creation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the kudos and comments, I am so sorry I haven't updated recently but everything was happening at once. It's been great to be back writing. 
> 
> If there are any errors they are mine as this is unbeta'd.
> 
> Thank you for being patient with me!!

"Holy shit"   
Everyone was open mouthed.   
"What? Did I do something?" Stiles was revelling in the moment, it was brought up short as slow clapping echoed through the clearing  
"I must say, that was very impressive" a voice drawled   
"Who are you?" Impes swung his great head round to face the sound, fangs bared and a low growl bubbling up from his throat.   
"I'm here for you."  
"Doesn't answer my question."  
"Why does it matter?"  
"Well if you feel like that, I could give you a name. Who about asshole-who-"  
A shard of tree bark shot at Stiles who only just managed to bring up his fire and burn it.   
"That was quick" the voice tried to sound unimpressed but Stoles could hear a hint of the opposite stuck in his voice  
"Im a quick learner"  
"Shall we test that theory?"  
"This is so cliched" he manages to mutter before he felt the shift in the energy in the clearing, he felt more than saw a person step into the light. 

They had their hands raised, palms upwards, ethereal green light spun from his upward facing hands which tethered themselves to the ghosts spiralling in the air, his head under a cloak hood, spirits wailed around him, "you asked what I was, I am a necromancer. I control the dead, what do you control?" The necromancer lifted his hands and darkness lofted around him from the floor, its thickened into shapes - skeletons. A goddamn Skelton army. 

"I control everything" Stiles hissed. 

He thought fast, skeletons come from the earth, they would be decomposing bodies, they would be part of the earth. What counters earth? Chaos. He searched for the void within him. The skeletons were approaching fast, they needed no weapons since they were themselves. He pulled up the void and felt his eyes well up with infinity. He lifted his head and pushed his hands out towards the skeletons, he imagined them being ripped apart by the void, Chaos has come again. 

They simply exploded. They were destroyed from the inside, ripped apart by the force of his impetus. The only thing left was a shapeless form of Chaos, swilling around midair. To Stiles it was a sleek black panther crouching waiting to attack. Sure enough - just as Impes had formed - his imagination came to life and the mass twisted into a huge, solid panther, her coat remained shiny like a liquid giving her more of a metallic quality but the chaos that created her remained fluid still, however, compared to Impes she was made of what looked like sand. Sand that writhed, coiled and waiting to explode.

Stiles suddenly felt like his lungs were full of soil, his limbs felt compressed like he was buried underground. He staggered as the equilibrium within fought to balance. As though sensing this the panther leapt over to him and chuffed lightly touching her nose to his hand. She restored his balance. He blinked and his eyes flashed back to his usual brown. 

Stiles saw the necromancer prepare another attack, so rather than be in the offensive he decided to make his own attack. He stepped forwards but his foot hit a cylindrical object, he glanced at it and saw it was a shotgun round. The ground was dusted with salt. Salt. It gets rid of ghosts and spirits. He desperately flung out for Air to gather up all the salt molecules on the ground. The tendrils slithered across the ground, suddenly there was a thin layer of salt granules floating chest high across the clearing. Stiles lifted his hands and the air sped up, whirling round him buffeting his hair. He gradually felt his eyes glow a more vivid ice blue, white slashes sliced across his vision as he doubled, tripled then quadrupled the speed until he was encompassed in a lethal, spinning armour of salt. 

The necromancer watched, eyes wide with astonishment. In his duration in the Dark he had seen powerful sorcerers but never one this great, and so young. He flicked a wrist and three spirits soared towards the salt, they screamed at him to stop, to let them go back to the Other Side in peace. Nevertheless, he pushed them them closer, towards their demolition. They were pulverised. Only the finest strains of their existence remained, wispy tendrils floated up into the air waving their final goodbyes to the world. 

Stiles felt his powers waning, the maintained intense concentration was rapidly draining his strength and distrusting his equilibrium. To add a kick to his actions and spread the impact he drew on his lighting, it crackled like a whip through his salt guard, lighting the grains, electrifying the wall. Pulling his arms close to his body he drew the power into a concentrated ball then released it. He screamed as the salt exploded, lightning arcing out following the movement of the granules. As the salt soared thought the air it hit the spirits, they all arched their backs, mouths agape in silent screams, hair whipping around their faces in an invisible wind. Then they vanished in a non existent cloud of gas. However, it must have been much louder for the summoner of the spirits since he was crouched over, hands covering his ears, the hood was scrunched up around his hands, silk fabric rippling between his fingers. His mouth open in a soundless scream.

Stiles was about to collapse when Impes swung his head to catch him, Impes. Chaos too snarled at the stunned necromancer. They rebalanced him. He needed to create his elements. Taking advantage of the necromancers distracted attention he drew back up the separate elements. Earth, lighting, water, ice and air. He needed to act fast, but his mind was slow and disorientated. A clod of earth lazily drifted around him, grass poked out of the mud. It reminded him of a lumbering bear, slow but something you didn't want to cross. Indeed a bear now was pacing back and forth, a grizzly. Thorburn. Bear of The Norse God Thor. His brown fur waved in the gentle breeze as the other elements observed ones creation. Lighting was impatient. It crackled, fizzing with forks of energy. The lightning coagulated in a ball, alive with power. Two branches forked out simultaneously, the idea barely crossed Stiles' mind when the forks hissed out to become great powerful wings, those wings split into a lower, smaller pair and those too did the same until three pairs of wings trailed down the body of a Thunderbird. It's eagle head proud and defiant. 

The Thunderbird needed a name otherwise he would not remain. He was a vivacious creature, difficult to hold, always wanting to fly. Stiles cast his exhausted mind back to his reading in the Bunker, the Thunderbird was a Native American creature, he looked up at the stunning bird before him, the name rose in his throat; Kwahu. Hopi for eagle. Kwahu shivered then spun in the air screeching. Stiles was so wrapped up in his creations that he didn't notice the necromancer had recovered and had stood up. He lifted his gaze and started, around the boy were creatures. The dragon, a huge lithe cat, a bear and some strange bird. Snarling the necromancer splayed his fingers. This boy had gone far enough. Lips stretched tight over sharp teeth, he sucked in a sharp breath and cast the spell cooling the exhaled air into ice shards. He blew them hard, aimed straight for the kids head. 

Stiles was about to start on the air when his Spark tugged in his chest and he spun to look at the necromancer, he also saw the ice shard hurtling towards him. Impes too caught sight of them, hissing he heaved in a deep breath and pushed the fire up his throat and onto the shards. They did not melt, this was serious magic Stiles realised. He quickly pulled up Air which he envisioned as a Peregrine Falcon altering the he wind around the weapons. The bird pulled its wings in tight and barrel rolled as the ice missiles followed it in a circle until Stiles flung his arms up and a sheet of ice, a meter thick sliced through the air, jagged edges froze where they were, the missiles caught right in the centre. Immobilised in their own state. Without asking Chaos, Thorburn and Kwahu launched an attack on the necromancer. Chaos leapt at the man but shifted into a formless shape, attacking like a vicious cloud, the three maintained a steady attack. Stiles blinked in surprise, he wasn't controlling them but he could feel their every movement and thought. Kwahu' thought were surprisingly similar to Deans. 

Spinning round he saw the shell shocked ground staring at him, eyes wide, mouths slack and hands loose around weapons.   
"Hey!" They snapped at attention, "get out of here!"   
Scott opened his mouth but Sam replied first, "we aren't leaving you, Stiles!"   
Impes snarled conveying Stiles' suppressed irritation, "at least get in the cars" when none of them moved he snapped, "NOW!" However, it wasn't just his voiced that yelled, with it came a deep roar, animalistic and immense. Dean began pushing the Pack away and Sam herded the stragglers away. 

A shriek brought his attention back to the matter in hand, the necromancer was cowering under the paws of Thorburn, but they had melded with the Earth so he was truly trapped in the ground. The bears face was inches away from the man's.  
Stiles took a step but two gentle nudges halted him, the formless bundles of Water and Ice floated before him. The water evolved into a horse, its mane swirling as though in a strong current, worthy of drawing Poseidon's chariot, just like Scylla. Ice sadly dipped lower, reminding Stiles of a small fox, a tiny arctic fox. The Greek word fro fox fitted nicely: Alepou. The fox bounced up and yipped joyously, tounge lolling out. Stiles grinned and lifted a hand into the crystalline coat as he walked over to the grounded - literally - necromancer. 

He whistled a sharp high note and almost instantaneously all his elements were at his side. 

The necromancer cracked open his eyes to see the darkening sky above him. He rolled over onto his side to see the boy. Surrounded by six immense creatures. Stiles had raised an army.


	11. Defeat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the kudos and comments! Hope you enjoy this

The Pack watched from the vehicles, barely comprehending what was happening. Stiles stood, strong and proud at the epicentre of his power: the dragon - Impes Cas has called it - stood to the right hand side of their friend, the panther prowled in between its legs, tail flicking in suppressed action, the tiny arctic fox sat pressed against Stiles' left leg, behind that stood a rippling Mustang whose mane and tail flowed in an invisible current. A bear snarled next to the water horse, huge, solid and imposing. A peregrine Falcon sat atop the bears shoulders, wings tucked close to its sides and above them a fantastic beast - a thunderbird - made purely of lightning flapped its powerful wings. Stiles himself seemed alive with energy, almost like he was pure energy. His skin was shimmering with magic, his arteries and veins swirled under his skin, tiny rivers of power soaring alongside his blood. His eyes were golden by his original hazel was still visible in it, specks of the elemental colours swam in the pools too creating a beautiful canvas of colour. 

"Cas, how long have you known he was a Spark?" Dean softly asked, afraid to break the moment  
"Since the birth of time. Just like prophets, Sparks are just as potent so they must be known. But I never knew he'd be this strong." Cas replied  
Scott could barely belive what he was seeing, Stiles a boy he'd now since the sandpit, who'd helped him through every up and down, werewolf attack and homework assignment, now stood before his friends and family protecting them with an ancient power that had been set free. Gratitude welled up like tears within his chest. 

Scott began to walk forwards, his steps slow and purposeful. He had covered half the ground when Lydia too followed him, her eyes locked on the boy she loved. Malia hurried behind Lydia clutching up with her then slowing to their pace. Sam and Dean clicked on and motioned for the others to follow. 

The necromancer still was on the ground and his eyes widened further still as he saw the lycos and hunters walk up side by side to Stiles. He knew he was done. He couldn't fight the Pack and a Spark, he hung his head in defeat and rose slowly, the lightning creature screeched in threat. He paused, a sudden thought flashing across his mind. A grin slashed across his face, flicking his eyes up he stood to his full height simultaneously drawing on the dark energy embedded in the world's fabric. The necromancer had never tried this but he'd read about it, he sucked the darkness into his body, letting it become him, the infinite power filled him up, freezing his core to such an extend that he felt he was boiling. Snapping his eyes open he looked down at the Spark and snarled. How the tables have turned. 

Icy dread washed through Stiles, the necromancer before him was no longer human. Instead an enormous monster towered over him, two powerful legs grounded it while four arms swirled at its side, huge hands ended them, claws three, four inches long burst from the end of the four digits. The body was black, with the texture of coal, red fire glowed from behind the rocks. It as a whole emanated force. Brute force.  
"Cas..."  
"The necromancer has fused with dark energy forming this abomination"   
"Yeah I can see that, how do I stop it?" Stiles' heart was starting beat faster and faster. Scott glanced concerned at Stiles, this was the only time Stiles had started to lose control in this fight. Now he was doubting himself.   
"We fight it how we always do." Scott gripped Stiles' arm, "together. As a Pack"  
Stiles locked gaze with Scott an idea sprouting in his mind, "Scott you genius" he whispered, "step back" he told the group.

Stiles lowered his eyes and began drawing in the energy from each of this elements, the air around him shifted as his animals, united, moved in front of him. He then forced them together, one great mass of Spark. He opened his eyes to see a globular mass of power in front of him, he eyes were flashing every colour of his powers, he raised his arms and drew them into him. It wasn't slow, however, instead the mass punched straight into his chest, he shouted as his breath was forced out of him, immediately he felt his nerves scream with energy, his Spark zipped through him. 

Sam and Dean watched astonished as Stiles sucked in his powers, his back rounded from the force of the hit, arms flung in front of him, knees slightly bending, neck gently curving and head following the motion. What made everyone gasp though was that Stiles didn't change at all. 

He didn't need to. He was the Spark, his power. He didn't need claws, wings, guns. He had his Spark and his mind. Stiles himself was the most powerful weapon ever to be created.

Stiles opened his eyes and raised his bright hazel gaze to meet the necromancer's red burning one. The monster began to advance, arms raising up behind it, it opened its maw and roared at Stiles, he smiled. He could see so much more now. He lifted a hand and solidified the air around the monster, at once it froze, just like a freeze frame. The monster tried to thrash around and he could feel areas of the air stretch and compress to maintain the stillness. Stiles then reached for the parasitic energy and began to unstitched it from the necromancer. It wasn't easy, neither wanted to separate. The necromancer loved the power and the energy had not been set free for eons an do not want to retreat back to the dark depths of the earth. But Stiles fought it. He ripped the two in half, the necromancer was flung to the side and Stiles pinned him to the ground by submerging him in it up to his chest. The energy, however, required Chaos to subdue and control it. Sweating now, Stiles pulled the earth apart wrenching a crevasse into the ground, the crash and mains from the earth were ear shatteringly loud. He grimaced as he gradually fought the energy back where it came from, he pushed it down, hands following the motions, using his air and occasionally lighting to shock it. The chaos was wrapped round the energy encasing it and limiting its motion. Next Stiles brought ice into the mix, limiting its kinetic movement until it was nearly motionless. Stiles spread a layer of fire behind the energy, the fire was living, roiling and coiling round itself. Stiles, always a sucker for dramatic flare, added some water for a steamy effect that swirled up and round the action. Slowly the energy was pushed down below the surface and Stiles knew he only needed one more shove until it retired to where it belongs. Raising his arms Stiles yanked all the Spark into one conglomerate then, while the energy was frozen with surprise, he smashed his arms down and the elemental mass crashed down upon it. With a weird screech it collapsed and tumbled to the earths core. Stiles straighten his arms and clapped his hands together out in front of him and with a great creaking the earth snapped shut.

**Author's Note:**

> This follows on from the previous fic, any comments welcome. Thanks for reading :)


End file.
